[He sat for it, wrinkling his nose with each pierce of the needle. 76 was good at his business when it came to a needle and thread; they both did. It had been a long time since they had sat here and did this. He actually couldn't remember when it had been... decades probably.]
Ah, personal issues... no wonder you two get along. You both are clearly just a pile of personal complexes.
[As curious as he naturally was, he wasn't about to pry much from 76. He knew it wouldn't go anywhere to begin with, and there was an odd sense of peace getting sewn up by the old asshole.]
Oh, he's not naturally half a snake throwing flames around? Does he actually have an occupation?
[Eyes rolled, even if them being pure black made it hard to tell, but boy did it hang in his voice a bit.]
You're hardly any better.
[He tied thread for the first, and then went to start on he second deep slice just the same as he had the first. A little warning with a tap of his finger before piercing skin and keeping a steady hand.]
Nope, that's a new one. He's a lawyer, apparently.
[Reaper knew the eyeroll, and he reached over to stab 76 in the ribs with two fingers to call the younger man out for being a little shit. He had teenagers that acted with better manners.]
Wrong. I am much better than you lately. I have better compartmentalization skills.
[He twitched for each pierce of needle, the pain of it growing more and more now that he was aware of it happening and could anticipate. It compounded with the normal pain that he experienced all the time, but this was sharp and drew his attention.
At the mention of lawyer, he hissed in disapproval.]
Lawyer? Haven't you been surrounded by them too much in the past? Better not censor you.
[There was that hiss of pain with how tender those ribs were yet again, and a swat with the hand not holding a needle in retaliation for it. Asshole.]
Doesn't make them nonexistent, smartass.
[Fingers were idly rubbing skin as he noticed the twitching, some bit of distracting and more soothing touch even if it wouldn't really do that much. Was an old habit whenever he had to do stitches without having something to numb localized pain.
Corner of his mouth twitched the tiniest bit at the hiss then.]
When I met him, he was running a bar with an underground fight ring. Don't think I've got to worry about that.
[He withdrew his fingers with the swat, his point made on the previous point of discussion. It was a bit too close to old times but rougher and with hints of bitterness. For him, it felt like teetering too close to the edge of a cliff where topics they would someday need to talk about where right there, but both of them would avoid it for this brief sense of truce.]
Hello pot, the kettle is calling.... At least I can take care of myself and not mope my way through what remains a second chance.
[It was a gesture that he noticed but remained unspoken towards. He knew what was happening there, and he wanted to appreciate it but held himself back from. It was rare that he could admit he missed Jack, but this might be one of those moments. He also resisted the need for self-sabotage to destroy what was between them right now.]
I don't think there are many courtrooms around these parts, and certainly no justice system. So he's a bartender now?
[Second chance? At what? This wasn't a second chance, just some side-track where he hadn't signed up for being flung in to a second world. No, this was finishing a job that he'd started so he could get back to the mission.]
I'm not the one moping here, and I can take care of myself.
[Just keeping it to the most basic of tasks. This was a dream, and his body was elsewhere; why waste the effort on just a fraction of himself? Real as everything felt and acted with the passing of time, he'd heal and deal with things as they came.
He tugged the thread tight, careful and slow, as fingertips still worked out of habit to distract and soothe as it pulled to close the wound. All the better to secure it and break the end of the thread.]
Someone else was the bar tender. He hasn't taken up any job here, nothing like that at least.
Maybe you can take care of yourself... but you're doing a piss poor job of it.
[But that was fine. He knew that 76 had a nasty habit of not taking care of himself, and that was just the way that the man was. It had gotten worse over the years, of course, but he told himself it wasn't any of his concern any further.
They were both adults, and they would take care of themselves in their own ways. It wasn't as if they had that many people who were still alive that cared about their well being. Besides, this was a dream and the real mission was waiting for them when they could bust their way out.]
So he was there drinking? Is that what you were doing there?
[He glanced over to examine the work done, and it was neat and tidy. He would approve of it, not that it mattered. Scars had stopped bothering him awhile ago. He was a mess no matter what.]
Keep myself running, doesn't matter outside of that.
[And was no concern of Reaper's, which was what struck him over the fact that the man was actively checking up on him here. That he made himself not think too much on-
Which was made that much more difficult given the promise of a threat earlier.
76 sat back on his knees, going through the practiced motions of cleaning the needle he'd used so it could be put back in the kit, along with the thread put aside to be further dealt with later.]
He owned the bar, ran the business and the fight club underneath it.
[Not answering what he was doing there, of course.]
You're playing a dangerous game with keeping going on the corruption angle.
[It wasn't any better, even if it wasn't any worse either. 76 wasn't having sudden outbursts of laughter and attempting to assault him so far. If anything, 76 had been rather helpful and less of an asshole than usual.
He lifted his arm once the younger manage was finished stitching him, examining the work that had been done and nodding his head. He pulled his pack closer to pull out some bandage material to keep the stitches dry and clean.]
Oh, now the reason that you were there actually comes out. Fight club, hmm?
[The entire "Essence" had made him some chimeric undead creature after all, but he was remaining vague over a... lot of details.
He glanced up then, and held a hand out for the bandaging Reaper had dug out. The look alone said very clearly 'It's easier for me to do it' and it wasn't like he'd be wrong. They both knew it.]
Mm, even if it was less a club and more a ring where the fights could be bet on.
[He might have spent a lot of down time there-] Not how I met him, of course.
[He, not knowing about the world of Essences, had no idea that 76 might have experience with death. He mostly thought that people threw around the death experience to be coy and had no idea the toll that it took on a person to die over and over.
He stared at the hand then at 76's expression and growled as he handed over the bandage material. If they were going to make one another miserable, they may as well go full scale and not just half-ass it.]
And just how did he manage to get so attached to you?
The world I was in before being thrown in to this one. It's why I'm familiar with working with shadow, too.
[Why he even gave out the information he did, not knowing how death might work here and just- avoid that for whoever he could. You felt it every single time, even if coming back from it. It clung.
He took that bandaging and paused for a brief moment-] Be easier if you had the shirt off, too. [Leaving that with that, even was he worked to find the end of the bandaging from the roll it was kept in.]
And you died in that world before coming here? Normally you just sprint and shoot...
[It was interesting information though, and he made certain to file it away to consider. There were plenty to think about and so much of where 76 came from that made the man a touch more reclusive than before.]
He stiffened at the comment, obvious and accurate as it was. He knew what 76 was getting at.] On one condition... you show me how bad the corruption is under yours. [It was the only way he'd do it. He'd risk a slipping bandage otherwise.]
Yeah. Just because it's temporary doesn't change it.
[He remembered drowning, so used to not needing to worry about it that it had slipped his mind until it was too late, and no matter how hard he'd fought what had gotten a hold of him-
76 let out a breath.] Fine. After I get your bandaging wrapped, I'll take off my own. [Compromise- because if he did it before the man would likely get distracted from sitting still.]
[Death, he meant. After all, it was a personal experience, and there were plenty of stories that expanded how everyone took it. Was that the reason 76 was such a feral recluse or was it some other reason? Of course, limit attachments and all that.
He growled, but it seemed that they had come to terms that they both agreed upon. He shifted his weight and carefully pulled his compression shirt off his other arm and then reluctantly removed his mask so that he could pull his shirt off completely.]
Make it quick...
[He dropped his shirt and mask down next to his jacket and sat forward again so that 76 had free access to bandage his arm.]
You? I thought you only cooked by camp fire these days.
[76 didn't answer right away, sitting on his knees and instead act as if he wasn't going to.
Rather, he watched Reaper remove the shirt- the fact the mask came off was also a surprise, letting his gaze linger briefly. Didn't look bad, honestly. White hair looked good on the bastard. Even if he probably didn't always look like that, if Ana's reaction was anything to go by, but still.
The look fit.
He only spoke once he started the bandaging, wrapping to protect the stitching and allow the not so deep cuts to heal]
Last one remember- [Implying it might not have been the first.] Water my lungs after burning for air. I couldn't get to the surface because I'd been knocked under water and swarmed by too many things to fight off alone. Bleeding and attracting more.
I don't know how long it lasted. [Drowning was horrible, and he'd clearly been aware the entire time. Could imagine what was being left unsaid as he looped some under Reaper's opposite arm before returning to help anchor it in place.]
Gave me something to do, when not in the fighting ring.
[He felt the weight of 76's gaze on him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. Depending on how damaged he was or what bad state he was in because of the decay cycle, he knew he could look like right shit. He had been taking care of himself lately, keeping on top of the hunger so he was a bit more put together. The burn scars were obvious, but Maul had never shied from them. A reality of his fall to death, he supposed.
Both of them bore the scars of Overwatch on their bodies.
He listened to the description, and he kept his arm jutted out to help with the bandaging. He knew what drowning was like, the struggle to hold one's breath before they just had to, only to be met with the burn of water where water shouldn't be. Desperation to breathe turned to panic to not have relief and choking it down before the oxygen deprivation just quieted everything.]
Not as long as you think it did once you inhaled water. After that... it's just the death throes...
[On that they could level with each other, which was... odd. They hadn't actually had this kind of civil conversation in a very long time. Maybe when he had met Jack's undead form from the graveyard, but it had been different.
He reached over his shoulder and pulled his long white hair up and out of the way, not needing it tangled in the bandaging.]
You always did need to keep busy. Never sat still for long on anything.
[There was no judgement, and no shying away. Fingers brushed scars and burn alike in the movements of steady and firm hands in his task. Smoothing a hand over bandage and skin alike to make sure it would lay in place correctly as possible. Some scars he'd already known, and the new ones with the burns were no surprise.
He carried the same.
Hands slid under some bandaging to make sure nothing twisted, and it wasn't being wrapped too tightly. Brought palms and fingers over burns, scars, and otherwise bare skin, movement slow and showing more the appearance didn't deter him, didn't hurry to get it over with but rather wanted to take the time to make sure the job was done right.]
Brain makes it all seem longer, slow motion even as it goes black. Feeling every burn and ache, and teeth digging in to skin. [He'd been attacked the entirety of it. Losing blood, losing strength, even as he drowned. Being ripped at, torn in to, making it not just a simple drowning.
Point was? It still clung to him, enough he remembered details, the feeling. He knew, he understood.
76 breathed a quiet thanks at Reaper moving hair out of the way as he worked, having made sure his hand passed under it, but it kept falling back in the way.]
There was too much down time, and hunting it an occasional spar did little. So I fought a lot of orcs, assholes the lot of them were. Satisfying fights, at least. Hit heavier than Reinhardt.
[This might have been the most peace that they had experienced together in a very long time, and it felt odd to him to feel the brush of familiar calloused fingers on his skin and faintly over his scars where there was nerve damage. The bandaging slid over his skin easily, and it was the close proximity that they had to keep which he was far more aware of.
There was an old scarred up and damaged layer of trust that he had for 76, improved thanks to the time that he spent in Deerington.]
Death takes longer for us as well. [They were enhanced to resist death after all, their bodies making a greater effort to keep going until the damage overtook their regeneration.] By what method did you return to living?
[Fighting to live was one thing, fighting then losing then returning after experiencing death brought a whole knew set of traumas. First time was probably the worst, he imagined. At this point, he was personally resigned to it.]
You always needed physical action to calm your mind when stressed. [Usually was sparring too.] Reinhardt would challenge you over that....
Reformed on a beach, dry. Gasping for air, and covered in healing wounds. Happened quickly because it was within a story specific world. [He had simply reformed, body having vanished within the water itself after a bit. Still remembering he had died, and left with the proof of it even if-] Lungs still burning.
[He tugged at bandaging then, making sure everything was in place and moving wouldn't cause it all to slip. Not too tight, getting a hand under what looked around Reaper's other side as well. Fingers gliding back to the shoulder to be sure there was enough 'padding' for the stitched and unstitched wounds themselves before he let his hands fall away.
Should be enough movement allowance there as well.]
He might. They were as big as him, too. [He never did well being made to keep to one place, having too much time on his hands, and so he did whatever he could to fill it.]
And which story was that? [While it wasn't outrageous to believe, he still was parsing through some of the details of story mash-ups creating missions to find a corrupting force known as the Story Eater from destroying worlds.] How long did it take you to come back from the dead? Even now your lungs burn?
[He continued to tolerate the brief fussing with the bandage, aware that doing it now meant that he wouldn't have to worry as much later when he was more active. It seemed that this space was compromised since 76 had been here, and now he needed a new bolt hole to settle in for a day or two.]
He always valued a good fight, even if it was a losing one. [Stupid Reinhardt sometimes. Guy had learned some tactics, but it was mostly a drop in and break shit kind even to the end.]
Peter Pan. Story Eater had disguised itself as Peter Pan. [A reason he'd made a point in his own message speaking of Erasers and the like, at least to some, that it wasn't just story villains it would disguise as; bring Erasers right along with it-] I don't know, the battle was still going. Like a phantom pain, my brain remembers more than my body does.
[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]
Peter Pan was never a safe story anyway. [That made sense then, especially given how he could think about the hazards of Neverland. It probably wasn't the most unexpected one to die on.] Fair enough, and the memory is vivid enough that you still have good recollection of it happening.
[He grunted in agreement, aware that there had been many things that even he and Morrison hadn't been able to get a good handle on before it happened. The upper brass of Overwatch was definitely filled with people who had wanted to live and die on the ship, and many of them actually had.
He shook his head a little, dropping his hair back down to rest against his spine as he picked at his compression shirt and examined it for the stitching he had already put in to hold it together. He didn't see that it required any improvements for the time being, but he was also distracted from his assessment when 76 pulled off a similar compression shirt without any fight between them.
His red eyes flicked to 76's bare side, noting the corruption. He leaned forward to examine the younger man's chest and then lean backwards to assess 76's back. His eyes landed on the old necrotic wound that he had put into the younger man, and the fact it hadn't healed was indication how rotten he was. Not even 76's advanced healing could overcome his condition.
He issued a low hum in his throat and abandoned putting his own shirt back on for the moment.]
Hard to tell which is corruption and which is this... [His blackened fingers reached out to trace over the sutures.] Does it hurt?
Hook figured it out, and actually came to help fight it despite having already tussled with the thing. [Of course 76 had ended up dressed as a pirate for the mot obvious of reasons, given the story. At some point in a mess of confusion it had nearly been Aspect against Aspect, but- well. Things had gone in their favor with the Story Eater having to pull a last ditch effort and rip a hole in reality.] Yeah.
[The corruption was definitely on more than just arms and face, his shoulders completely blackened the same as arms and hands, it spiderwebbing it's way across his chest and neck. There was a solid line of it going down along his spine, vanishing up to his hairline where it went up along the back of his neck.
It traced his ribs, curved over hips and vanished where it clearly went underneath his pants line. Those were not coming off, he'd only agreed to the shirt for obvious reasons.
There was still a bit of a hiss, the only indication that that wound still hurt even after all this time.] Ana did her best there, and Zeigler couldn't even get it to heal.
So, let me guess... you dressed as a pirate at least once? [He drawled that, thinking he was right because it sounded like a lot of these stories were about blending in and sniffing out clues and some such.
He used his hands to nudge and urge 76 to sit forward a few inches so that he could shift more in behind the younger man. He was, of course, keying in to the corruption but also how it blended in with the peppered necrosis of his bullet. Scatter shot like that was always messy, and lesser men would have died from it, let alone carried on.
For him, it had been nearly three years since he had inflicted this injury, so it had mostly passed out of his mind. Now that he was seeing it again and focusing on it, he was keenly aware of the fight. If he closed his eyes, he could feel 76's flesh around the fragments. They weren't metal after all; they were pieces of himself, trapped in the spaces around cells, draining life to maintain themselves.
Oh what he could do with this...]
Ana never did have the fine hands for suturing. [He was pulling out a knife and set to work removing the sutures. They weren't helpful.] Stay still. These are only pulling these days.
[He paused mid-motion over one suture.] I can heal this where Ziegler failed....
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Ah, personal issues... no wonder you two get along. You both are clearly just a pile of personal complexes.
[As curious as he naturally was, he wasn't about to pry much from 76. He knew it wouldn't go anywhere to begin with, and there was an odd sense of peace getting sewn up by the old asshole.]
Oh, he's not naturally half a snake throwing flames around? Does he actually have an occupation?
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You're hardly any better.
[He tied thread for the first, and then went to start on he second deep slice just the same as he had the first. A little warning with a tap of his finger before piercing skin and keeping a steady hand.]
Nope, that's a new one. He's a lawyer, apparently.
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Wrong. I am much better than you lately. I have better compartmentalization skills.
[He twitched for each pierce of needle, the pain of it growing more and more now that he was aware of it happening and could anticipate. It compounded with the normal pain that he experienced all the time, but this was sharp and drew his attention.
At the mention of lawyer, he hissed in disapproval.]
Lawyer? Haven't you been surrounded by them too much in the past? Better not censor you.
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Doesn't make them nonexistent, smartass.
[Fingers were idly rubbing skin as he noticed the twitching, some bit of distracting and more soothing touch even if it wouldn't really do that much. Was an old habit whenever he had to do stitches without having something to numb localized pain.
Corner of his mouth twitched the tiniest bit at the hiss then.]
When I met him, he was running a bar with an underground fight ring. Don't think I've got to worry about that.
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Hello pot, the kettle is calling.... At least I can take care of myself and not mope my way through what remains a second chance.
[It was a gesture that he noticed but remained unspoken towards. He knew what was happening there, and he wanted to appreciate it but held himself back from. It was rare that he could admit he missed Jack, but this might be one of those moments. He also resisted the need for self-sabotage to destroy what was between them right now.]
I don't think there are many courtrooms around these parts, and certainly no justice system. So he's a bartender now?
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I'm not the one moping here, and I can take care of myself.
[Just keeping it to the most basic of tasks. This was a dream, and his body was elsewhere; why waste the effort on just a fraction of himself? Real as everything felt and acted with the passing of time, he'd heal and deal with things as they came.
He tugged the thread tight, careful and slow, as fingertips still worked out of habit to distract and soothe as it pulled to close the wound. All the better to secure it and break the end of the thread.]
Someone else was the bar tender. He hasn't taken up any job here, nothing like that at least.
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[But that was fine. He knew that 76 had a nasty habit of not taking care of himself, and that was just the way that the man was. It had gotten worse over the years, of course, but he told himself it wasn't any of his concern any further.
They were both adults, and they would take care of themselves in their own ways. It wasn't as if they had that many people who were still alive that cared about their well being. Besides, this was a dream and the real mission was waiting for them when they could bust their way out.]
So he was there drinking? Is that what you were doing there?
[He glanced over to examine the work done, and it was neat and tidy. He would approve of it, not that it mattered. Scars had stopped bothering him awhile ago. He was a mess no matter what.]
no subject
[And was no concern of Reaper's, which was what struck him over the fact that the man was actively checking up on him here. That he made himself not think too much on-
Which was made that much more difficult given the promise of a threat earlier.
76 sat back on his knees, going through the practiced motions of cleaning the needle he'd used so it could be put back in the kit, along with the thread put aside to be further dealt with later.]
He owned the bar, ran the business and the fight club underneath it.
[Not answering what he was doing there, of course.]
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[It wasn't any better, even if it wasn't any worse either. 76 wasn't having sudden outbursts of laughter and attempting to assault him so far. If anything, 76 had been rather helpful and less of an asshole than usual.
He lifted his arm once the younger manage was finished stitching him, examining the work that had been done and nodding his head. He pulled his pack closer to pull out some bandage material to keep the stitches dry and clean.]
Oh, now the reason that you were there actually comes out. Fight club, hmm?
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[The entire "Essence" had made him some chimeric undead creature after all, but he was remaining vague over a... lot of details.
He glanced up then, and held a hand out for the bandaging Reaper had dug out. The look alone said very clearly 'It's easier for me to do it' and it wasn't like he'd be wrong. They both knew it.]
Mm, even if it was less a club and more a ring where the fights could be bet on.
[He might have spent a lot of down time there-] Not how I met him, of course.
no subject
[He, not knowing about the world of Essences, had no idea that 76 might have experience with death. He mostly thought that people threw around the death experience to be coy and had no idea the toll that it took on a person to die over and over.
He stared at the hand then at 76's expression and growled as he handed over the bandage material. If they were going to make one another miserable, they may as well go full scale and not just half-ass it.]
And just how did he manage to get so attached to you?
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[Why he even gave out the information he did, not knowing how death might work here and just- avoid that for whoever he could. You felt it every single time, even if coming back from it. It clung.
He took that bandaging and paused for a brief moment-] Be easier if you had the shirt off, too. [Leaving that with that, even was he worked to find the end of the bandaging from the roll it was kept in.]
Time.
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[It was interesting information though, and he made certain to file it away to consider. There were plenty to think about and so much of where 76 came from that made the man a touch more reclusive than before.]
He stiffened at the comment, obvious and accurate as it was. He knew what 76 was getting at.] On one condition... you show me how bad the corruption is under yours. [It was the only way he'd do it. He'd risk a slipping bandage otherwise.]
Repeat meetings then. You seem attached to him.
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[He remembered drowning, so used to not needing to worry about it that it had slipped his mind until it was too late, and no matter how hard he'd fought what had gotten a hold of him-
76 let out a breath.] Fine. After I get your bandaging wrapped, I'll take off my own. [Compromise- because if he did it before the man would likely get distracted from sitting still.]
Took up a job at his bar as the cook.
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[Death, he meant. After all, it was a personal experience, and there were plenty of stories that expanded how everyone took it. Was that the reason 76 was such a feral recluse or was it some other reason? Of course, limit attachments and all that.
He growled, but it seemed that they had come to terms that they both agreed upon. He shifted his weight and carefully pulled his compression shirt off his other arm and then reluctantly removed his mask so that he could pull his shirt off completely.]
Make it quick...
[He dropped his shirt and mask down next to his jacket and sat forward again so that 76 had free access to bandage his arm.]
You? I thought you only cooked by camp fire these days.
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Rather, he watched Reaper remove the shirt- the fact the mask came off was also a surprise, letting his gaze linger briefly. Didn't look bad, honestly. White hair looked good on the bastard. Even if he probably didn't always look like that, if Ana's reaction was anything to go by, but still.
The look fit.
He only spoke once he started the bandaging, wrapping to protect the stitching and allow the not so deep cuts to heal]
Last one remember- [Implying it might not have been the first.] Water my lungs after burning for air. I couldn't get to the surface because I'd been knocked under water and swarmed by too many things to fight off alone. Bleeding and attracting more.
I don't know how long it lasted. [Drowning was horrible, and he'd clearly been aware the entire time. Could imagine what was being left unsaid as he looped some under Reaper's opposite arm before returning to help anchor it in place.]
Gave me something to do, when not in the fighting ring.
[Amongst other hobbies he took up.]
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Both of them bore the scars of Overwatch on their bodies.
He listened to the description, and he kept his arm jutted out to help with the bandaging. He knew what drowning was like, the struggle to hold one's breath before they just had to, only to be met with the burn of water where water shouldn't be. Desperation to breathe turned to panic to not have relief and choking it down before the oxygen deprivation just quieted everything.]
Not as long as you think it did once you inhaled water. After that... it's just the death throes...
[On that they could level with each other, which was... odd. They hadn't actually had this kind of civil conversation in a very long time. Maybe when he had met Jack's undead form from the graveyard, but it had been different.
He reached over his shoulder and pulled his long white hair up and out of the way, not needing it tangled in the bandaging.]
You always did need to keep busy. Never sat still for long on anything.
no subject
He carried the same.
Hands slid under some bandaging to make sure nothing twisted, and it wasn't being wrapped too tightly. Brought palms and fingers over burns, scars, and otherwise bare skin, movement slow and showing more the appearance didn't deter him, didn't hurry to get it over with but rather wanted to take the time to make sure the job was done right.]
Brain makes it all seem longer, slow motion even as it goes black. Feeling every burn and ache, and teeth digging in to skin. [He'd been attacked the entirety of it. Losing blood, losing strength, even as he drowned. Being ripped at, torn in to, making it not just a simple drowning.
Point was? It still clung to him, enough he remembered details, the feeling. He knew, he understood.
76 breathed a quiet thanks at Reaper moving hair out of the way as he worked, having made sure his hand passed under it, but it kept falling back in the way.]
There was too much down time, and hunting it an occasional spar did little. So I fought a lot of orcs, assholes the lot of them were. Satisfying fights, at least. Hit heavier than Reinhardt.
no subject
There was an old scarred up and damaged layer of trust that he had for 76, improved thanks to the time that he spent in Deerington.]
Death takes longer for us as well. [They were enhanced to resist death after all, their bodies making a greater effort to keep going until the damage overtook their regeneration.] By what method did you return to living?
[Fighting to live was one thing, fighting then losing then returning after experiencing death brought a whole knew set of traumas. First time was probably the worst, he imagined. At this point, he was personally resigned to it.]
You always needed physical action to calm your mind when stressed. [Usually was sparring too.] Reinhardt would challenge you over that....
no subject
[He tugged at bandaging then, making sure everything was in place and moving wouldn't cause it all to slip. Not too tight, getting a hand under what looked around Reaper's other side as well. Fingers gliding back to the shoulder to be sure there was enough 'padding' for the stitched and unstitched wounds themselves before he let his hands fall away.
Should be enough movement allowance there as well.]
He might. They were as big as him, too. [He never did well being made to keep to one place, having too much time on his hands, and so he did whatever he could to fill it.]
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[He continued to tolerate the brief fussing with the bandage, aware that doing it now meant that he wouldn't have to worry as much later when he was more active. It seemed that this space was compromised since 76 had been here, and now he needed a new bolt hole to settle in for a day or two.]
He always valued a good fight, even if it was a losing one. [Stupid Reinhardt sometimes. Guy had learned some tactics, but it was mostly a drop in and break shit kind even to the end.]
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[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]
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[He grunted in agreement, aware that there had been many things that even he and Morrison hadn't been able to get a good handle on before it happened. The upper brass of Overwatch was definitely filled with people who had wanted to live and die on the ship, and many of them actually had.
He shook his head a little, dropping his hair back down to rest against his spine as he picked at his compression shirt and examined it for the stitching he had already put in to hold it together. He didn't see that it required any improvements for the time being, but he was also distracted from his assessment when 76 pulled off a similar compression shirt without any fight between them.
His red eyes flicked to 76's bare side, noting the corruption. He leaned forward to examine the younger man's chest and then lean backwards to assess 76's back. His eyes landed on the old necrotic wound that he had put into the younger man, and the fact it hadn't healed was indication how rotten he was. Not even 76's advanced healing could overcome his condition.
He issued a low hum in his throat and abandoned putting his own shirt back on for the moment.]
Hard to tell which is corruption and which is this... [His blackened fingers reached out to trace over the sutures.] Does it hurt?
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[The corruption was definitely on more than just arms and face, his shoulders completely blackened the same as arms and hands, it spiderwebbing it's way across his chest and neck. There was a solid line of it going down along his spine, vanishing up to his hairline where it went up along the back of his neck.
It traced his ribs, curved over hips and vanished where it clearly went underneath his pants line. Those were not coming off, he'd only agreed to the shirt for obvious reasons.
There was still a bit of a hiss, the only indication that that wound still hurt even after all this time.] Ana did her best there, and Zeigler couldn't even get it to heal.
[Guess who had dragged him there.]
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He used his hands to nudge and urge 76 to sit forward a few inches so that he could shift more in behind the younger man. He was, of course, keying in to the corruption but also how it blended in with the peppered necrosis of his bullet. Scatter shot like that was always messy, and lesser men would have died from it, let alone carried on.
For him, it had been nearly three years since he had inflicted this injury, so it had mostly passed out of his mind. Now that he was seeing it again and focusing on it, he was keenly aware of the fight. If he closed his eyes, he could feel 76's flesh around the fragments. They weren't metal after all; they were pieces of himself, trapped in the spaces around cells, draining life to maintain themselves.
Oh what he could do with this...]
Ana never did have the fine hands for suturing. [He was pulling out a knife and set to work removing the sutures. They weren't helpful.] Stay still. These are only pulling these days.
[He paused mid-motion over one suture.] I can heal this where Ziegler failed....
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